


Beach Boy

by cathrheas



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Beach Sex, Exhibitionism, Gen, Masturbation, Sex Toys, beating it on the beach if you will, but there's an onahole here., he's bi btw, there's no AO3 tag for onaholes.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25726708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathrheas/pseuds/cathrheas
Summary: Sylvain enjoys his trip to the beach!(Maybe he enjoys it a little too much.)
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/A Very Lucky Onahole
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24
Collections: Wank Week 2020





	Beach Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to check out [my Twitter](https://twitter.com/cathrheas)!

Sylvain was coming to understand why people enjoyed warmer climates. Growing up in Faerghus, Sylvain never gave much thought to sand and surf and sunshine. But after mere minutes within earshot of roaring waves, Sylvain realized that guys like him were  _ born _ for the beach. The drinks were tastier, the girls were a lot sexier, and most importantly, a shirt was optional.

And when the sun was setting...other clothing was pretty optional, too.

Sylvain was smart enough to know not to get caught. He knew how to shield himself, to lay in such a way that it would be easy to cover himself up if someone got  _ too _ close. But on the other hand, being so discreet defeated the purpose of a beach, didn’t it? Sylvain didn’t often have the chance to dress down at all, with the stuffy academy uniform and all of the layers he had to wear back home. And he didn’t exactly get the opportunity to see so many people wearing so little clothes, either.

_ Good thing I came prepared, _ Sylvain thought. He took a sip of his drink, a sour blueberry mix that chilled his tongue. He was pretty far back from the coast line, stationed under a palm tree at the top of a slope. He had a picnic basket next to him, leftover from an earlier outing with Ingrid. Since she’d departed, though, he’d emptied it and left only the essentials: a hand towel, a bottle of oil, and his favorite toy.

He reached his hand in the basket, looking over the rim of his sunglasses at the dwindling beachgoers. Enough people were there to make things interesting, but they were all walking along the shore, chattering amongst themselves. He was hidden in plain sight. He blindly felt around for the toy, a custom-made onahole. Sylvain wasn’t exactly  _ stoked _ to be a noble rich boy, but having money to throw around on indulgences made his life a lot more pleasurable.

The onahole was placed between his thigh and the basket as his hand fished around for the oil. He tried not to look too shifty as he looked around the beach; eventually, he calmed down, looking at the various people talking and strolling. Sylvain used one hand to pull his erection through the hole of his swimming trunks, still pulling the bottle of oil out of the basket. He poured some into his palm, then finally wrapped his hand around himself.

_ Fuck...even if I had to stop right now, this’d be enough to get me off for months, _ he thought, a crooked grin crossing his face. He’d always loved being risky, taking his partners to whatever shady corner of the monastery he could find. But he’d never done it in  _ public, _ despite fantasizing about it for so long. Really, he was happier that he was enjoying the moment by himself. Although his toy didn’t compare to the warmth of a human, he also enjoyed the silence, the solitude.

Who could he have invited? Sylvain’s mind began to wander, idly stroking his cock. Dimitri would have been impossible to get to the beach in the first place. Sylvain liked to imagine that Felix would be too loud to leave them unheard. Ingrid...well, she might have been able to keep quiet, and she was already at the beach, but there was no way in hell Sylvain would have convinced her to do it in public. Mercedes might’ve, but Sylvain liked the idea of being the one to initiate, to be leading his partner into whatever debauchery he was up to—Mercedes might have been too willing for it to be fun.

No, it was better that he was alone. He didn’t mind going solo; he didn’t think himself a narcissist by any means, and he still wasn’t fond of his noble stature, but he felt  _ good _ about himself. Dressing down and showing off gave him the chance to see how well he’d filled out. He ran a hand over his pecs, his abs, down to the toned muscles of his thighs. He’d turned a few heads, from the ladies and the gentlemen, since coming to the beach. Yeah, he was pretty good looking, and he knew it.

“Somebody’d be lucky to catch me looking like this,” he chuckled. He looked down at his dick, slick and hard. What a pretty image, with the light of the sunset playing off the glistening oil. He might have been able to finish untouched, just thinking about being exposed, out in the open—but he did have to work quickly. Again, he had no desire to be caught, rather than just basking in the possibility.

He finally picked up his toy, running his thumb over the opening. He pressed it in, briefly, wondering who he’d be thinking about that time around. But when he finally let himself slide into it, his mind went blank. He normally liked to imagine someone in place of the toy, yet he had no desire to right then; every sensation felt like it was dialed up to eleven, knowing that someone could so easily stumble upon him. 

Sylvain crooked his elbow, rested it on the basket, then bent one of his knees, leaning back against the tree trunk. From a distance, he looked relaxed, like any other beachgoer—someone would have to be looking rather closely to see his hand moving rapidly, sliding his prick back and forth inside of the onahole. He kept looking around as he did so, his heart rate skyrocketing. There was nobody close to him, but  _ fuck, _ all it would take was one person to look at him for a few seconds too long...

Then what? They’d likely call a guard over to investigate, if there was one nearby...but that was too boring to think about. Instead, Sylvain imagined that they’d whisper, point at him, call him a  _ slut _ or a  _ whore _ or any other word of a similar nature, all whilst creeping closer to get a better look at him.

“You like what you see, huh?” Sylvain dared to be a tad louder than he had been before. After all, if he was caught, he’d have no reason to whisper. It’d feel good to act as shameless as people always made him out to be...not like it’d be an act. “Wish I’d fuck you like I’m fucking this toy, right?”

Getting in trouble was out of the question. If someone found him, they’d just want him even more, he knew it. They’d see him, out in the open, thrusting into the pliant material of his toy, and see him as fair game. He wouldn’t really mind being accosted by pretty girls and handsome men, all getting their fill of him. What else would he expect, touching himself in public? Somebody had to put him in his place.

_ Poor me, getting jumped by beautiful beach babes as “punishment”. _ Sylvain snorted a bit.

Sylvain kept sweeping the beach with his eyes, but with entertainment rather than anxiety. The people walking near the water, several yards away, were not sources of fear and worry but of excitement.  _ Look over here, _ he thought, squeezing his hand around the onahole.  _ C’mon... _

All of the oil he’d used resulted in thick, squelching noises coming from the toy moulding around his dick. It was absolutely filthy. He couldn’t appreciate sounds like that over the moans of a lover, or even his own cries, but when he was forced into not being so loud, he could fully appreciate every  _ schlick _ that came from the toy against his skin.

Sylvain saw some familiar figures off in the distance; he lifted his sunglasses up onto his head to get a better look. It was Byleth and Lady Rhea, walking around the water with Dorothea, Ingrid and Lorenz in tow. Sylvain was the only one missing from their little excursion. They probably figured he was chasing skirts. Oh, they couldn’t be any more wrong.

He imagined their reactions if they saw his bright orange hair in the distance and decided to come by. They were far enough that he could definitely get himself together before they arrived...but the idea of being caught was too delicious to simply pass up. No, he wouldn’t have been able to stop. He imagined Ingrid and the archbishop's looks of disgust; Lorenz would be bewildered by a noble acting that way. Dorothea and Byleth...well, that could be interesting. Sylvain liked to imagine they might have been a little turned on by him, but somehow, seeing that same repulsed expression that he surely would have seen from Ingrid, Rhea and Lorenz might have made Sylvain cum on the spot.

“Won’t be too fun to explain getting kicked out to my dad,” Sylvain murmured, “but  _ Goddess, _ I’d be cumming ‘til I passed out...”

Byleth and company passed by, disappearing out of his peripheral vision without looking his way. Even a wave “hello”, a simple  _ acknowledgement _ of his presence without knowing what he was doing, would have made him go mad. But his body seemed determined to finish off either way. Getting caught by strangers was one thing, but the idea of his peers and teachers finding him was even better.

Sylvain loved finishing into his onahole, sliding it up so that his head was submerged and he could coat its insides with his seed, but cleanup for that was a lot harder. When he felt himself getting close, he fumbled around in the basket for the towel, clutching it in his free hand. He checked around him one last time, and once the coast was clear, he finally started to moan louder. Goddess, he even loved the sound of his own voice. 

He kept fucking himself with the onahole until he felt close to bursting; then he pulled it off and let it fall to the towel beneath him, next to his thigh. It only took a few more wet pumps with his hand before his legs were tensing, his jaw was dropping, his toes were curling, and he was shooting off into the hand towel. He hadn’t expected there to be so much, let alone for each rope to shoot so long, but he had enough sense to angle himself into the fabric of the towel and attempt to catch it all.

Sylvain wasn’t used to hearing himself sound so pathetic, but he was  _ whining _ for it. Orgasms always felt good, but never that good, never so good that it made his vision go blurry. He probably should have been concerned by the sensory overload, and how difficult it made it for him to pay attention to his surroundings, but ecstasy rarely left room for logic, and he had plenty of ecstasy to spare.

His sunglasses had fallen back over his eyes in the midst of his furious jerking, but he pushed them back again with the back of his hand to look at the mess he’d left in his handkerchief. Well, most would call it a mess. Sylvain was no coward; he’d call it a tasty snack to warm him up for round two...

“Hey! Sylvain! What are you doing up there?!”

Sylvain started, nearly dropping the handkerchief. Ingrid was standing near the shore, alone, waving her hands wildly. Sylvain hadn’t even noticed her backtracking...yeah, he definitely blacked out for a few minutes. Sylvain cupped his hands to his mouth, then shouted, “Taking a nap!”

“Well, dinner’s about to be served, so hurry up! ...Or else I’ll eat your share!”

Sylvain lowered his hands, rolling his eyes. Of course, Ingrid was being a buzzkill. Even when she didn’t mean to be. As he began to pack up, beginning with tucking away his deflating erection, he realized that he’d gotten a little bit of his own cum on his cheek when he’d cupped his hands to yell back...

He merely chuckled to himself, then licked it off with a tongue that was almost  _ too _ accustomed to the taste.  _ Boys like me really are built for the beach, eh? _

**Author's Note:**

> im so horny for beach sylvain its not even funny anymore. please send help he's holding me HOSTAGE
> 
> theres no way they even have like, good onaholes in medieval conditions but im saying "fuck it" to accuracy for this one.


End file.
